Black-eyed peas & the Sacred Work of Growing Culture, Climate Resilience, and awakening Memory
- Ariel Reyes Antuan
- Oct 29
- 5 min read
“Some seeds carry more than food — they carry memory. And memory is the beginning of liberation.”
Across the African diaspora, black-eyed peas — also known as cowpeas — have traveled oceans, survived war and enslavement, seeded revolutions, and nourished kitchen tables from Salvador do Bahia to Santiago de Cuba. Today, these same seeds are helping us imagine new futures in the face of climate change.
A recent harvest on the Sandown Centre for Regenerative Agriculture grounds — stewarded by Lisa of FarmFolkCityFolk — yielded just 2 lbs from 70 row feet. On paper, a modest yield; in reality, a powerful signal. This harvest is not just agricultural — it is ancestral.
This is a story about culture, ecology, and the ancestral intelligence of nourishment.
A Sacred Seed: Spiritual Significance Across the Diaspora
First of all, black-eyed peas are not technically peas; they are a variety of cowpea from the Vigna Genus family. They symbolize:
Prosperity & abundance
Protection
New beginnings
The survival of a people
Across West Africa, cowpeas hold aṣẹ — the divine life force present in all things for the Yoruba people. They have accompanied spiritual ceremonies, ancestral offerings, and the everyday meals that feed both body and soul.
When enslaved Africans were forced across the Middle Passage, these seeds traveled in braids, pockets, and the unseen. The black-eyed pea became a vessel of continuity — a healthy reminder that what is sacred cannot be destroyed.
To eat cowpeas was — and still is — to sustain an unbroken relationship with the ancestors.
As “Día de los Muertos” approaches, consider placing cowpeas on your altar—an offering of memory, nourishment, and gratitude. You can get them at the Island Afrikan Supermarket.
At our recent reading of Kofi and the Seed Seekers, Fatou prepared Moi-Moi — a beloved Nigerian steamed bean pudding made from blended, seasoned black-eyed peas. She crafted hers with mackerel, resulting in a deeply nourishing dish so delicious that attendees immediately asked for the recipe.
You’ll find it below.
“Frijol Carita” in Santiago de Cuba: Memory on a Plate
In my hometown Santiago de Cuba –which is currently recovering from the Hurricane Melissa's impacts– black-eyed peas — frijol carita — used to be beloved foods woven into household recipes and ceremonial offerings alike. I remember my mum making “potaje” scented with oregano, garlic, and peppers; and in humble weekday bowls that carry generations of memory. We have lost many of these practices.
I also recall being a child in the bembés — rhythmic, communal ceremonies where drumming, song, and dance are offered to honour and call upon the Orishas — watching elders place black-eyed peas at the feet of Yemayá and Obatalá. In some bembés these beans were carried with reverence.
Yemayá — Mother of the Ocean, protector of families and source of all life — received them with the gentle strength of flowing water. Obatalá — the eldest Orisha, creator of human bodies and guardian of wisdom, clarity, and peace — was honoured with the same offering.
Those gatherings – we weren’t allowed past 8 pm – taught me that black-eyed peas are more than food; they are prayers carried in rhythm, offered to the Mother who nurtures us and the Elder who shapes our paths.
These vibrational exchanges are not merely culinary — they’re cultural technology. Every “caldero” is an archive. A continuous whisper: remember who you are.
Frijol Carita have nourished Afro-Cuban communities in Santiago de Cuba for generations, especially in moments of scarcity. Their protein richness, adaptability, and accessibility stabilized families through revolution, rationing, and social transformation.
They teach us: Food is memory. Memory is currency.
Acarajé: Food for Liberation in Salvador do Bahia
In Salvador da Bahia, Brazil — a Black city rooted in Yoruba cosmology — black-eyed peas become acarajé, a deep-fried ball of mashed cowpeas sold by women dressed in white: baianas do acarajé.
Acarajé is not street food — it is ceremony.It is offered to Iansã/Oyá, the orisha of wind, change, and fierce feminine power.
Historically, baianas sold acarajé to buy their own freedom and to support others. These stands became micro-economies — places where women sustained families, built community, preserved spiritual life, and resisted oppression.
Acarajé reminds us that food can fuel liberation.That a humble bean fed a revolution were portals to sovereignty.
Cowpeas as Climate Guardians
In the agricultural world, cowpeas are celebrated as quiet climate heroes.
✅ Drought-tolerant
✅ Nitrogen-fixing (soil regenerating)
✅ Thrive in heat
✅ Adaptable to poor soils
As temperatures rise and water scarcity increases, crops like cowpeas will become essential partners in resilient food systems.
Lisa’s harvest proves their viability here. Even if yields are initially lower than other beans, their ecological benefits are compelling.
This is climate adaptation: humble beginnings, deep potential.
Nutrition for the Future
Cowpeas bring:
High protein
High fiber
Iron + folate
Low glycemic load
They nourish communities while asking little of the land. As climate uncertainty grows and incomes tighten, accessible plant proteins like cowpeas become crucial to family nutrition and food sovereignty.
Re-introducing cowpeas to these lands helps:
Diversify diets
Strengthen community health
Resurrect cultural pathways of nourishment
This is not innovation — it is a return to wisdom.
Seed Stewards: Tardi Grade Seeds
The wide return of cowpeas depends on small seed keepers/producers like Tardi Grade Seeds, who are helping ensure these plants continue to grow, evolve, and feed future generations.
Their work is archival. Perhaps they do not know about it – responding to the principle of superposition–. They preserve the stories embedded in every seed coat and share them with land stewards who understand that food security begins with seed sovereignty.
Tardi Grade Seeds is helping ensure that these culturally significant, climate-resilient seeds are part of our present and our future — in the hands of communities who will steward them with love.
A Quantum View: Seeds as Memory & Possibility
Lately, I’ve been studying quantum mechanics – an old passion that is returning very strongly to me–. From a quantum perspective, a seed is not simply an object, it is a memory packet — a collapsed story of ancestors, landscapes, and futures waiting to emerge.
Then cowpeas became a living library. When we plant it, we activate both biological and spiritual memory — a relationship that transcends time. Every seed responds to intention, soil, hands, water, and care; every harvest is a co-creation between the material and the unseen.
In my world, when Lisa harvested 2 lbs of cowpeas, she wasn’t just growing food — she was participating –unknowingly– in an ancient agreement with life: We remember. We continue.
My last thought is that planting cowpeas in Coast Salish lands is a way of weaving ourselves back into that remembering.
PS: Follow my quantum leap with a new three sister combination: let’s grow Black-eyed peas, Red kuri squash and blue corn.
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